Mechanic
by SamuelWeston
Summary: When his last job goes wrong a mercenary hangs up his gun to become a ships mechanic. Unfortunately for him he chooses the one boat in Thailand that is truly a magnet for trouble. Post El Baile de le Muerte arc in the manga/Roberta's Blood Trail in the anime. Its Black Lagoon, of course its rated M, the F-Bomb will be dropped.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is a second attempt at a Black Lagoon fic. The first one I tried refused to set out well, and if I feel it isn't well written I won't publish it. Bear with me. I know some of you are wondering when I will get my other fics updated. Plain truth, I don't know. Whatever muse I had for a while has deserted me, and I have had no will to write. This is as much to straighten things back out in my head. I am moving back to a small town I have lived in much of my life in order to do my course work to get my Associates of Applied Sciences for Aviation Maintenance, so I have a lot on my mind.**_

**Mechanic**

**Chapter 1**

_The young man sat with his back against a wall, a Ruger AC556 laying in his lap. Occasionally he would jump when he heard a staccato of gunfire from somewhere and knew it meant that more of his friends were dead. He kept wondering when it would be his turn._

_He could easily tell the sharper reports of the AK74 rifles the police were using. Sometimes he heard fire from the older AK47s the rest of the rebels were using, though highly infrequently. He had told his employers that an open attack in any part of Kazakhstan was suicide, but of course they hadn't listened. His job was to ensure combat readiness and act as a marksman._

_Gathering himself into a kneeling position he aimed his rifle at the door to the room he was hiding in. Clicking the fire selector into full-auto he removed the scope , was totally useless in close range with it mounted. He mentally went over his checklist. Combat load, one chambered, full magazine. Irons sighted in at twenty five yards, aim low. Pray to god that they don't have your bullet._

_The door began to open..._

"Hey, Crider. We are putting in to Roanapur for fuel only. We will be there in an hour. You have until this thing is full of diesel to get off unless you want to stay on 'til we hit Portugal," A large Armenian man yell into the room.

"Crider" shifted as he slipped into consciousness. That yell meant that the three months he had spent down in the engine bay of the smuggling ship was over, and he was getting paid. Next step was to find employment in Roanapur. Provided he survived, well that was a certainty rather than a question, after all he had survived that cluster fuck in Kazakhstan.

Gathering his belongings, a duffel bag filled with clothing and personal items, and a locked suitcase that he had not opened since coming aboard the vessel, he went up on deck. He set his stuff down by the entrance to the crew quarters. Standing he walked toward the bow of the ship. Calling it a ship was generous though. More like a shipwreck waiting to happen. The only thing that was in any kind of condition was the engines, he made sure of that, much to the captain's chagrin when he had to shell out for parts.

Losing himself in the wind he heard five sets of footsteps approach to withing twenty feet and then stop. So it was time for contingency three. They kill him to keep any of their secrets from getting to the ears of the authorities.

He turned slowly. Upon reaching the hundred and eighty degree mark he took in the situation. The captain had an old break over shotgun pointed at him while the other crew was unarmed. Predictable, and it put the odds in his favor.

Leaving his hands at his sides he worked the little .25 Beretta to where the barrel was touching the heel of his hand. If what came next wasn't the either "stay and live or hit the drink speech" he would eat a torque wrench.

"Something we forgot to tell you when you joined up, the only way off the boat is a load of buckshot to the head. You have a choice, stay on the crew and keep the engines running, or I blow your dome off and dump you overboard," the large Armenian said smoothly, and "Crider" could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief from the engine room.

No torque wrench quiche tonight.

Before the five smugglers could comprehend what happened he had flicked the pistol down into his hand and had planted a round above each of the mens' left eye. So much for something actually going right in his life. Maybe he should have let them kill him.

* * *

Five hours later he was trying to piece together what had just happened. He had walked into a bar a few blocks away from the harbor. He asked the bartender if there were any vessels based in Roanapur that needed a mechanic. Then he talked to a middle aged black dude wearing a flack vest. And now he was on the deck of an old Elco PT boat.

His current wonder was if he had somehow made a sacrifice to some god by shooting the smugglers. Everything was going right, where only hours earlier he had a shotgun staring him down. Maybe he should find another boat of smugglers and massacre them to keep this up.

He finally pieced everything together. The black guy, Dutch, was the owner and captain of the Black Lagoon, the Elco PT boat, and had hired him on as a mechanic to even out the crewing of the ship and have an extra set of hands on-board during jobs. He ran a courier service and had three other employees. Revy, Rock, and Benny.

Their main employers were the crime syndicates on the island, mainly the Triads, and the Russian Mafia. Revy took care of the shooting when it occurred, Rock was their negotiator and face to the client, and Benny took care of the radar and computer work. Dutch had been doing most of the mechanic work on the boat, but he was glad to be able to get someone else who was actually willing to do the work.

He turned toward the hatch that lead to the engine room but stopped when he felt the barrel of a pistol press against the back of his skull. His brain went in to overdrive. The shape told him it was either a Beretta 92 or 93R, a quick shift of his head revealed the lack of a flip down grip and told that it was a 92.

"Tell me who you are and why I shouldn't blow your brains out," a rough female voice asked, obviously the person holding the gun.

"My name is Ethan Haines, and I was just hired as a ships mechanic by the owner of the boat," Ethan was the best he could come up with when he hit town.

It worked out though, he actually had documentation of this identity. One of five identities he had for legitimate work. Every other job he came up with something off the top of his head. However with the need to find someplace to live he needed to use something halfway legal. And it was easier to get a bank account in any country with a picture ID.

"Yeah right, Dutch has been doing the mechanic work on the Lagoon as long as I have been here."

"And I am tired of having to squeeze my big black ass into the engine room. Let him go Revy, he ain't lying to you," Dutch piped up coming up from below deck.

The second that the pistol left the back of his skull he stepped about five foot forward and turned. He studied the three people who he saw. Revy and two men. Revy stood a few inches shorter than he did, and was wearing a pair of custom chrome frame 92Fs. The shorter of the two men was Japanese, that would mean that was Rock. The taller one would have to be Benny.

"Now that the introductions seemed to be in order, I am Ethan Haines. I just got hired as a mechanic, I don't care if you have a problem with me, and I am going to go to the engine room before someone else decides to massage my scalp with a pistol," he turned and strode quickly to the hatch before anyone could get near him.

He wasn't anti-social or anything, he just wasn't fond of being held at gunpoint. No one he had encountered was at that. So his haste to get away from Revy was understandable. She didn't look too bad, but he tended not to pursue women likely to kill him. Was not good for his health.

* * *

The Lagoon wasn't the first Elco he had ever been on. His grandfather had bought one after Korea and had lived out on a lake until he died. After his death Ethan's father had sold the boat for what he could get out of it and had ended up in the hospital with severe alcohol poisoning, the bill taking up what he hadn't drank up.

He knew the engine bay of one these boats well, when it actually had the engines that came in them. Instead of the traditional three 1500 horsepower 12 cylinder gasoline Packards it had two 3000 horsepower eight cylinder diesel engines, he didn't know what brand. And instead of the three screws it had twin water jet propulsion. Add in the lighter formed steel hull over the original mahagony wood hull it was way ahead of its time. Well any other PT 103 class Elco.

Going through and looking the engines over he was amazed at how well they were maintained. While he had not originally been a mechanic of any type he learned to work on marine engines as a way of getting transport in and out of countries while keeping a low profile. Nobody really paid a grease monkey any attention unless they had to.

He could hear yelling above him, but he tuned it out, probably Revy didn't like the fact they were getting a new crew member. Dutch had been sure to warn him about her dislike of new faces. At least she had asked who he was instead of just pulling the trigger.

She wasn't hard to read. About like most of the people he interacted with since he had runaway from home. Gutter trash. Not much different than him. They both smelled the same. Gunpowder, smoke and blood. Probably the reason she put a gun to his head in the first place. He didn't blame her.

His ears picked up the metallic ringing of someone coming down the ladder. The steps were heavier than a woman's, so that ruled Revy out as the one approaching him. He stood from the pulley assembly he had been going over and turned to the visitor.

The first impression Rock gave off was office boy. Wearing the white shirt and tie gave him away instantly. He hadn't heard him speak yet, but he figured that he would be highly polite and would try to apologize for Revy's actions.

"Hello, I'm Rock. Sorry about Revy putting a gun to your head, she doesn't do well with new faces."

Smack on the nail's head with that one.

"Sorry about how I yelled at y'all. I just have never liked having a gun pointed at me from any range. Like I said my name is Ethan. I will admit that was a more exciting welcome than I have had in a while."

Rock visibly relaxed at Ethan's words. Ethan had been told that Rock and Revy were partner's. Rock was the voice, Revy the muscle. Sounded a little backwards for a woman to be the muscle, but now it made sense after meeting her. They handle most of the customer interactions and were often times inseparable. And their partnership had also erased all fear of death from Rock.

"I don't suppose it would be possible to have you leave the boat for a while, would it," Rock asked seriously.

"She holds a grudge easily. Sorry, I need to get familiar with these engines, and the whole damned United States Marine Corps won't stop me from it. Revy is not the first woman that threatened to kill me, though most waited till they knew my name at least. I do want to know who does her gunsmithing work though, those 92Fs are a pure work of art."

Rock sighed and left. The thought running through his head was that Ethan was going to have maybe another day or two of his life left.

* * *

"Goddammit Dutch, we don't need another pocket thinning out the pay," Revy yelled punctuating the statement by punching the steel bulkhead.

"I'm getting too old to be stuffing myself down there nowadays. You can either put up with him or leave, as it is I doubt he will be much of a problem. As eager as he was to get to the engine room the only time we may see him is when we are in port. He understands the risks and agreed to all the terms I stated to him. His only function will be to make sure the Lagoon's engines can outrun anything they need to," Dutch stated, his voice even as he sat down at his usual position at the helm.

"You say that, but you don't catch the smell coming off of him. Gunpowder and death, the same smell I have, the same smell that fucking maid had. He's gutter trash, he isn't just a mechanic. He is running from something. He will be trouble for us."

"When that comes you can paint what ever wall he is standing in front of at the time with his brains."

Benny yelled from his cabin down the corridor, "I agree with Revy, something about him just seems off. However he checks out on paper. Ethan Haines. Age twenty six. Parents deceased. Been working as an engineer on ships most of his adult life. Says he was born in Richmond, Virginia, moved to Grey Bend, Nevada when he was three months old."

Dutch turned his head as Rock stepped into the main cabin, "What do you think?"

"Honestly, he is hiding something. Something painful for him. His movements are too fluid for someone who is just a mechanic. They are more like Revy's or Chang's. He holds himself far too alert to not have some type of combat training, though it is unlikely to be formal. He is somewhat friendly, and he seems to be able to read people easily. He does not hold grudges easily. I don't think he forgets it when someone wrongs him however. He is genuine in his interest in the engines," Rock laid out his assessment of the newest crew member.

"I don't like it. How did he get to Roanapur in the first place. I doubt that someone like him would have flown in here to find work on a ship, and it isn't like there is a passenger service too this place," Revy grumbled.

* * *

_**A/N: Long for my writing, but I want to give you plenty to read until the next update. Like I said I have a lot going on and cannot even give an idea of an update schedule. I will do my best though. I actually had about half a chapter for Return of Light done when my hard drive bit it. Luckily I was able to get a new one and am getting back into writing mode. A quick thought: those of you who use the pay it forward method of getting reviews are assholes. If you cannot write for the sake of writing, then don't write. Even if nobody reviews this I am still going to continue writing it. So many great stories have died because of this method. Goodbye.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Bullets tore off pieces of the wall he was hiding behind. The pops of the AK47s boring into his skull. Some went past where the wall was broken and hit the ruined hulks of the SUVs. His employer was panicking, curled up into a ball in the dirt beside him. He just sat calm and waited. These were ill trained guerillas, not a Spetsnaz team._

_Two of the remaining mercenaries he was in charge of fiddled with their Bushmasters waiting to be ordered to return fire. They knew that their leader was waiting for the fire to die down, however long that took. It was nerve wracking to just sit there with people shooting at them._

_The lead merc drew the pistols he was wearing from their holsters on his thighs. Winding his right forearm in a circle he told his men to get ready. The enemy fire started to slack off. Chopping his arm down his men returned fire. The snaps of the smaller 5.56x45mm rounds were lost under the report of the larger 7.62x39mm rounds. However the more precise M4s started to thin out the AKs. The AK47 was meant to wipe out things by mass fire, not accurate shooting. _

_He heard something shift the dust on the other side of the wall. Aiming his pistol at the edge next to him the second a head entered his sights he fired. Only afterwards did he notice that the figure was a young girl not even twelve years old, and she was carrying an old Tokarev pistol._

Ethan shot up his eyes wide. Every night he dreamt he was in some godforsaken hellhole he had fought in. Always the most traumatic events. This time it was Somalia. It was the main reason he had an apartment away from everyone else.

Over the last two months he had started integrating himself in with the crew. He pulled his own weight without complaint, he worked proactively to maintain the engines, and he accepted his pay without asking for more than his fair share.

He doubted they would understand about him waking in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder. Most people didn't. At least this had been one of the milder dreams.

Laying back he calmed himself. He could not remember the last time he had gotten more than four consecutive hours of sleep at once. He was too young for this. Though Ethan Haines was twenty six, he was actually twenty nine. He had been a gun for hire since he was fourteen.

He had had one of those "perfect" childhoods. Mommy locked him in a closet while she had another strange man over, and daddy got drunk and beat him to within an inch of his life because he got a B on his spelling test. His grandfather had been the only kind person in his family, and a week after he died and Ethan's father went into the hospital Ethan stole his father's old pistol and ammunition and sneaked across the border into Mexico.

After that he managed to find work as a gun for any low grade hood that would pay him. Some of the more experienced mercenaries had taken him under their wings and he had gotten good. Soon he was being hired to wipeout upstart drug cartels in Bolivia.

He went to Africa when he was seventeen. He mostly worked VIP protection, most mercenaries did. Getting there he had gotten work in the engine room of a tramp steamer leaving out of Panama. During that trip he had learned the ins and outs of being the head mechanic on an ocean going vessel. And gained his favorite way of getting into coastal countries for a job.

He had worked most of Central and South America, most of Africa, Southeast Asia, the Middle East, and throughout the former Soviet Bloc. He could field strip a M2 machinegun and reassemble it in a half an hour. He could put a round through a man's eye from two hundred and fifty yards and move before they heard the report.

He was tired. After his last job went bust he decided to retire. He hopped the smuggling ship and was now steadily employed as the mechanic of Lagoon Company. Not quite as dangerous as merc work, but it was exciting.

* * *

"Hey. Catch."

Ethan expertly caught the can of beer Revy tossed him. He let it set for a minute before he opened it. He learned after the first three times that she would shake his beer before handing it to him. History repeats itself quite often.

"Did Dutch say what the job was," He asked the female gunslinger.

He eyed her while he waited for a response. Delicate facial features, flaming red hair, long lean legs, and decent sized boobs. He didn't let his eyes linger there too long due to the Berettas framing them.

"Something for Balalaika. She wants us to come by her headquarters so she could brief us her self."

This intrigued him. He had yet to meet any of the crime bosses on the island. He really didn't care if he did or not, as long as they paid Dutch and Dutch paid him.

The name is what got him though. He had heard it a great deal in the Soviet Bloc. Applied to the older model Dragunov sniper rifle. That and a three stringed instrument from Russia. Never liked them, he would always prefer an old six string guitar.

Benny chose then to walk in, "If she is telling us herself it means its big. And if its big it pays good."

"It also means there is going to be some sort of trouble," Rock added following Benny in.

Ethan took a drink from his can as Dutch walked in. Nodding his welcome he started coughing when the liquid proved it was drunk itself by trying to go down his trachea.

"Easy now. I think you have heard that Miss Balalaika has asked us to her headquarters to explain a job. Don't do anything stupid. It is a wonder she hasn't killed Rock here for his sheer audacity," his boss informed him.

"So basically shut the fuck up and look pretty."

"Basically."

* * *

Ethan had not seen this many Russian soldiers in one place since the days he did mercenary work for the mujahideens in the mid eighties. For some reason he still didn't feel safe around them. Some things never change.

The building was quite nice. That meant that the Bougainvillea Trading Company was doing good, or the boss wanted to keep up appearances. Probably the latter since it was the local Russian Mob front. With the varying shades of red the only thing missing were the guards with AKMS74Us standing on either side of the door to the bosses office.

It was upon entering the office that his heart started pumping a bit faster. It turns out that he had met one of the crime bosses of Roanapur. Only the meeting was not what you could consider good. Not when the said boss was a Russian paratrooper captain the rebel cell you were working for captured.

Luckily if she recognized him, she didn't say anything. Of course this did occur in 1986, he wasn't even shaving yet.

"Welcome. You must be the mechanic Dutch told me he had hired. It is nice to meet you," Balalaika said pleasantly.

Ethan nodded and said, "Likewise."

"Well, to explain your presence here today. There are some smugglers that believe they can move narcotics into the city under the radar. Usually I would have the Vissotiniki meet them at port,however I have decided that I would prefer them to never get sight of the Buddha. Deal with them and acquire the cargo. I will pay you half the price of the cargo. $500,000 American. Any questions?"

Revy raised a hand, "Do they have to survive, Sis?"

Balalaika smiled, "I will leave that up to you, Revy. If that is all you may go. Mr. Haines, I believe that is the name Dutch gave me, would you stay here for a minute. I would like to get to know you a little."

Ethan sighed, "Go on, I'll catch up."

As the rest of Lagoon Company left he sat down in one of the available chairs.

"It has been a long time, Mag," she said after a moment.

"It has at that Capt. Pavlovena, it seems the war was not kind to you after our meeting," he said, a weary tone entering his voice.

"No, it was not. I do not remember if I ever thanked you for helping me."

Unnoticed by Ethan a large man standing to the side of Balalaika's desk finally spoke up, "You met this man during the war capitan?"

Balalaika nodded and Ethan relayed the short version, "I was a mercenary employed by the mujahideen forces during the mid eighties. In '86 my cell captured her. The regulars planned to interrogate, rape, and kill her. During the night I slit the throats of the other members and helped her escape. I led her to within a mile of the Russian held line, and then I left Afghanistan myself. I figured that it was better to do one good deed in my time there than to be the crony of a bunch of freedom fighters. After that I ended up chasing down rebels in Libya for a few months. I forget after that."

"Do you still have it," she asked after he had finished.

Reaching down into his boot he withdrew the .25 Beretta he had used on the smuggling ship and laid it on the desk.

"It saved my life coming in here a couple of months ago. That smuggling vessel with the five dead on it was how I was going to arrive. I did too good a job with the engines though."

With that he stood and left.

* * *

Boris turned to Balalaika, "Capitan, I remember you saying you had escaped on your own. Why did you lie?"

"If I had said something about him he would have been hunted down, tortured for every bit of information he had, and then killed and buried in the middle of the desert. He did not deserve that. He was only trying to earn his pay, he had no stake in the war. I thought the least I could do was protect him in return," Balalaika explained to him.

* * *

"Hey Rock, whadda you think she wants to talk to him about," Revy asked while they were waiting for Ethan.

"I don't know, it almost sounded in her voice as if she knew him," he replied.

Dutch looked over at them, "How would she know a ship mechanic. Last I checked she was a former Soviet paratrooper and a Russian gangster. There is nowhere they could have come into contact."

"Like I said before, Dutch, he is hiding something painful to him. Maybe he hasn't been a mechanic as long as it says he has."

"If he has something to hide in his past it is his problem until it affects us. I don't want you two snooping around him," Dutch warned Rock and Revy.

"Yessir, Dutch, no snooping for me or Rock," Revy said with a mock salute.

* * *

Ethan went straight to the engine room when they arrived at the dock. He knew everything was perfect, but he wanted to be alone. Afghanistan held some hard memories for him. Though some were good.

The night he helped Balalaika escape she had forced him to go through all of the packs and find her Dragunav before she would leave the camp. So they had been delayed half a hour while he searched for a specific rifle among the twenty or so Dragunavs that had been captured by the cell. And when they had gotten about a day between them and the camp she had offered herself to him in thanks for her life. He had refused, he didn't save her because he was horny, he did it because it felt like the right thing to do. Most of the stuff he did he did because it paid good or felt right, and the stuff that felt right never paid real well.

He looked over to the small cot he had down there. Underneath it sat his suitcase. He knew the contents intimately. A broken down M4 carbine and several pistols of varying make and caliber. There was a story behind almost every handgun he owned.

He turned his mind from it. He should have dumped those guns overboard. He just couldn't do it though, he would be throwing away a part of himself as he did.

More than likely he would never have to handle a gun again in his life if things went real well.

Who was he kidding. When things went well, someone was always going to be gunning for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

If there was one thing guaranteed to lull a man to sleep it was the sound of a well tuned engine. Even Ethan wasn't immune to it. It also kept the dreams away. In fact the only time he could sleep soundly was when he was next to the engines on a vessel.

The only thing that woke him up was the change in pitch as the engines slowed to idle. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes he sat up on his cot. Standing and grabbing his shirt off a pressure valve he pulled it on and left the engine bay.

Looking off the bow he could see a small cabin cruiser approaching them, though on the vector it was on it would probably run right by them. That was the plan actually. They pass the Lagoon, Revy jumps on and slaughters the crew, Dutch pulls along side, they transfer cargo, and then Ethan rigs the engines to explode and scuttle the ship.

Pretty simple, at least until he noticed a glint and felt something scrape his arm. Cursing he barreled into the main cabin.

"They know we aren't tourists Dutch. Might be time to run," he yelled entering the main cabin.

Revy and Dutch turned their heads to him and noticed the blood staining his right arm. Without even looking Dutch advanced the throttles to full out. Before the boat was at full speed Revy had already made it out on deck and was prepared to jump on the other vessel.

"Hey Dutch, what gives. My equipment can't handle this type of abuse. Warn me next time," Benny yelled from his cabin.

Ethan grabbed a pair of binocs and trained them on the advancing boat. He paled when he saw what was on the bow. A Barret M82 Anti-Material rifle. Capable of making shots at ranges exceeding one mile. With pinpoint accuracy. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

He moved without thinking. He sprinted out on deck, took flight, and hit Revy in the back of her knees making her fold backward on top of him as a round punched a neat hole just above where Dutch was sitting.

"YOU BASTARD, JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'R DOING," Revy screeched.

"KEEPING YOUR FUCKING HEAD ON YOUR FUCKING SHOULDERS! THEY HAVE A FUCKING .50 RIFLE," he returned with the same force.

Tilting her head back she noticed the half inch hole in the Lagoon's windshield, "Fuck. They do. Fuck."

He heard the boat approach closer and heard the Barret let off another round now that they were within hearing range and were closing. He could tell that the shooter wasn't skilled, but at close range that didn't matter. Despite knowing he would regret the decision he allowed instincts to take over. One of Revy's Cutlasses was sitting right next to his hand.

He grabbed the pistol and shot up flipping Revy onto her front. He lined up the shot and fired. He knew the difficulty of hitting a target on a moving ship from another moving ship. However his luck was holding out.

While he hadn't hit the shooter he managed to hit the scope ruining it and effectively silencing the weapon. He lowered the gun and let himself breathe.

Revy pushed herself up, "NEVER DO ANY SHIT LIK...! Woah. Great shot."

Ethan said nothing as he handed the pistol back to her. He wasn't surprised when she hopped over to the other boat when it passed them. He listened to the sharp cracks of the twin 9mm pistols as Revy mercilessly executed each crew member. The sounds got quieter as the cruiser got farther away.

Eventually the boat stopped. Dutch pulled the Lagoon along side and him and Rock jumped over to the smaller vessel. If Rock was surprised at the lack of Ethan's reaction to the corpses he didn't show it. They managed to find several crates of morphine and transferred them. Ethan went to the armory on the Lagoon and got a brick of semtex and a detonator receiver.

Cutting a hole in the fuel tank he formed the explosive into a kind of patch and put it into place, then he put the the receiver into the explosive. Jumping back over to the Lagoon he waited till they were a safe distance away and hit the button. The cruiser burst into a cloud of black and orange. It brought a slight smile to his lips.

* * *

When they hit Roanapur they sent Ethan to deliver the goods to Balalaika. Dutch decided it was time they speak about him.

"Ok, you three have been wary of Ethan since he came onboard with us. I was willing to leave well enough alone, however that stunt with shooting out a rifle scope from a moving boat has me asking questions. And being able to rig a boat to blow that easy concerns me," Dutch started.

"No shit. He managed to recognize the weapon from long range through binoculars. He hit the scope of a rifle from mid range with a 9mm pistol. And he setup a semtex charge without even trying. He isn't a simple mechanic," Revy stated, somewhat condescendingly.

Rock sighed, "He carries himself in a military manner, he thinks of the best way to do anything with a minimal expenditure of resources. He has been able to recognize weapons by sight and sound. I think that he may have been a mercenary before he came here."

"So what, he screwed up a job and needs to hide out or something? Why not disappear somewhere like Mexico, someplace hard to locate people? Roanapur is filled with mercs, it would be an obvious place to hide," Benny offered up half joking.

"This is the City of the Dead, maybe he decided it was time for him to die. Wouldn't be the first person to run here for that reason. Besides something about his age doesn't add up," Revy stated bluntly.

Dutch raised his eyebrow, "His age doesn't add up? What the hell does that mean?"

"Dutch, I'm twenty five. He looks closer to thirty. Even with hard living he wouldn't look that old and be just a year older than me."

"So what, he just happened to have the ID of a guy that looked like him and was three or four years younger. Who goes around with something like that?"

"Someone trying to forget who he was," Rock said quitely.

* * *

It hadn't taken Ethan long to deliver the drugs. He dropped them off at the warehouse Dutch had told him to go to. Other than stopping to get a six pack and something to eat he had gone straight back to the office.

He had reached the top of the stairs about the middle of the conversation. He stopped and listened. It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to figure out who they were talking about. He listened and thought.

He was an idiot to think that they wouldn't ask questions about him. The moment he picked up Revy's pistol he had admitted he was not a simple mechanic. And he also shown too much of his familiarity with explosive materials.

He couldn't have broadcasted it better if he had walked in smoking a cigar and carrying a machinegun. Old habits were hard to kill. Some ended up killing the person with them. It is always a gamble.

He now realized though, that he had forgotten about the age difference between himself and the identity he was using. Of course he was going to look about thirty since he truly was almost thirty. Those four years made a difference in how someone looked.

He had three choices. Tell them who he really was, if he remembered himself. Go in there like he hadn't heard anything. Or he could be a coward and walk away. Well two choices, he wasn't even going to consider a cowardly act. Just wasn't in him.

When he heard them start moving around he called out, "I'm back. Oh, and I brought beer."

He walked through the door. He noticed some well hidden suspicious looks. He had spent too long as a gun, he was good enough that he could look a catholic priest in the eyes and tell him ever time he lied. Damn necessity of being hyper aware.

He knew that eventually he would have to tell them the truth. The problem was how to do it and not get his head blown off. Was that possible though? Around Revy he wasn't too sure.

"Hey Ethan," Benny broke his train of though.

"Yeah man, whacha need?"

"Why don't you use one of the apartments here. Dutch would give you a better price than what you are probably paying now."

"One, I prefer not being indebted to my own boss. Two, I have a feeling that it has saved me from getting my head blown off. I think the only reason I am alive is cause Dutch threatened to dock her pay if she killed me."

Benny laughed when Revy shot Ethan a look that would have stopped a tank, "You may be on to something with the second point."

Shaking his head Ethan checked the clock, "I'm going to go back to my place. Benny, tell Jane to send some more of whatever those things were supposed to be. They may have looked like rocks, but they tasted pretty decent."

It was Dutch's turn to shake his head, "There are only two people here who can eat her cooking. Benny has to, the fact you actually like it is amazing. You might have been able to eat in a military chow line with a stomach like yours."

"Spend three months eating nothing but pickled herring and liverwurst , afterward everything tastes good. Even something like sauerkraut."

"Would a bullet taste good," Revy asked, displaying her dislike for the woman.

Ethan cocked his head to one side, "It would probably be extremely crunchy, but I'll pass," he then left the room just a breath before the door frame was dissolved by Revy and her Cutlasses.

* * *

"Dutch, I'm calm now. You can let me go," Dutch released Revy from the headlock he had put her in during her fit.

Benny looked at the spot Ethan had been standing at when he had said that, "I did not think it was possibly, but someone actually made a joke at Revy's expense and survived."

"Further assessment, he may also be batshit crazy. And you get at me for audacity. That was miles past anything I have said to Balalaika. I figured only Mr. Chang could have said something like that and lived. He didn't even look concerned. Like he knew what was going to happen, and he knew that he was going to live," Rock stated breathlessly.

"I may have judged him wrong. He has balls, but he's still gutter trash. OH, he has it coming alright. He is going to wish his mother had miscarried when I'm done with him. Nobody does that to me and walks away unschathed."

* * *

Ethan laid down on his bed. He could not believe he had said that and managed to get away. He had pleased some god. If he figured out which one he was going to become religious. Well, he might pray some, but that counted. Right?

He closed his eyes. He new that it was futile, he would only wake up again in a few hours. Then sleep claimed him.

_He drew his knife across the throat of the last Mujahideen fighter. In less than five minutes he had taken out the entire cell while it slept. He was giving up a good paying job, but honor won out over money, like it usually did. Pulling the man's light cover up over his face he stood._

_Walking over to a bound form he nudged it, "Ma'am wake up. I need to get you back to the Russian lines before someone comes over to say hi."_

_The form shifted and moaned, "Еще пять минут. Мм, кто является Вами?"_

"_Please in a language I can understand."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_At the moment, unemployed. If you had asked about fifteen minutes ago I was a mercenary employed by the mujahideen forces. However the rest of my cell lost an argument on morality with my knife. If your wanting a name, call me Mag. Now what do I call you?"_

_The woman he was untying looked him in the eyes with a disgusted look, "Я - Капитан Павловена, Вы часть грязи." (I am Captain Pavlovena, you piece of filth.)_

"_Wow, I don't even speak Russian and I can figure out you don't like me. The most I got out of that was Capt. Pavlovena. Ok Capt. Lets get you back to your lines," he helped the woman up on her feet._

"_Wait, my rifle. I cannot return without it."_

_Mag was dumbfounded, "It was a Dragunav. It is not a particularly good rifle. They are a dime a dozen. They will issue a new one when you return."_

_Capt. Pavlovena grabbed him by the front of his shirt, "Either find my rifle, or I am staying here."_

"_Fine. Shit, if it was a Moison-Nagant I could understand. But a Dragunav."_

_Going over to the crate they had put all the captured sniper rifles in he hefted it on his shoulder and brought it over to her. He spent the next half a hour searching through the crate until he found the rifle she was so damned possessive of. _

"_As much as you seem to love that thing I ought to call you Mrs. Balalaika. Oh well. Come on, it will take us two or three days to reach Russian lines. I don't want to be here when someone comes looking for these bastards."_

_Capt. Pavlovena stood a moment before following, "Балалайка, я фактически как звук этого. Мисс Балалэйка." (Balalaika, I actually like the sound of that. Miss Balalaika.)_

Ethan opened his eyes slowly. Looking over at his clock he saw it was six in the morning. He had gone to sleep about eleven. So he got a full night sleep.

Wait, he got a full night's sleep. He didn't have a nightmare. He saw a memory he had forgotten amongst all the bad ones that plagued him. Maybe this city was what he needed. Or to tempt death like he had last night.

* * *

_**A/N: Well using other languages in my writing is a first, well a real one any way. However if you spoke something other than english as your primary language you would tend to favor it when you were waking up or pissed off. In the next chapter Ethan is going to reveal to Lagoon Company as much as his past as he can remember. He may not have amnesia, but he has had so many names, and been so many places, and had so many memories he wanted to be rid of things are a little hit and miss for him.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The nightmares waking him up in the middle of the night had prevented Ethan from being a morning person for most of his life. Very few people could be fully functional on only three or four hours of sleep. That was a hard fact. Ethan wasn't one of them.

He had been involved in events that allowed him less than that, and he had suffered greatly for it. His body needed time to repair itself. Three hours didn't give him enough time. He needed at least five to have any rest, he preferred seven to eight though.

With having gotten a full night's sleep he felt really good. Good enough to walk to the office instead of catching a rickshaw like he usually did in the mornings. It still amazed him that such antique types of transportation were utilized. Needless to saw it took him longer than usual.

When he arrived at the building he stopped and took a deep breath. Everything seemed better when you were well rested. He didn't think anything could ruin the day. If he had thought about it, he would have remembered how things always played out for him.

Opening the door to the office he stepped in. At first he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. After a second he noticed something on the coffee table. His eyes went wide when he had finally processed what he was seeing.

His suitcase was lying open on the table. Every weapon contained inside on display for the world to see. His M4 lay next to the case assembled. His Colts, Berettas, Glocks, and every other handgun he owned shone in the morning lights.

"I think it is time we talked. Why don't you take a seat," a deep voice ordered him.

Looking at the couch and one of the chairs he saw the rest of Lagoon Company staring at him. Processing more he registered the 870 lying across Dutch's lap. A flurry of emotions warped through his head. Everything from dread to betrayal.

Knowing when he was in a situation he couldn't win was paramount to a mercenary's survival. Ethan took a seat across from Dutch, never letting his eyes wander from the shotgun in his bosses hand. He couldn't think enough for him to figure out was going on. He had feared that this day would come, he just hadn't expected it to be this soon.

He could only utter one word quietly, "Fuck."

"Your going to think fuck in a minute you little bastard. Not only do you have the balls to insult me, you hid this little trove of treasure. I can't wait until Dutch tells me to blow you apart," Revy cackled, glee apparent in her voice.

"I should have dumped them overboard before that smuggling ship left port. You have questions you want answered. Ask them. I can't guarantee an answer to all of them, but I'll answer what I can," Ethan said solemnly.

He knew he was cornered, and he had known something like this was inevitable. He just wished inevitable was a year from now or more. At least when Revy had started to like him. He knew that this might be his curtain call, and he was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. What took years of hard battles and a mountain of bodies to erase, a single suitcase had brought back.

Rock spoke first, "Why did you hide this from us?"

"I wanted to forget it myself. I have spent every day since I was fourteen fighting somewhere. I know just about every way to kill a man. And have used all those ways. I have more blood on my hands alone than most African dictators. Almost all of them so I could earn a paycheck. I got tired of it, and I decided to retire," he answered bluntly, no use sugarcoating it.

Dutch went next, "Why did you start?"

Ethan laughed, "I had one of those perfect childhoods."

Revy stiffened when she heard this. Rock and Benny looked confused. He couldn't tell what Dutch was thinking, he always wore those damned shades, even when he slept.

"My mother cheated on my dad. He worked nights, and at least three nights a week she had some asshole or another over. She would lock me in a little closet under the stairs in our house. Full of spiders and who knows what else. She would leave me in there for hours until she got tired of getting her brains fucked out. My dad knew, but he didn't give a shit, he didn't want to shell out the cash for a divorce. That would have eaten into his drinking money. Booze was about the only thing he cared about. He was an angry drunk too, and he demanded perfection. If I came home with anything lower than an A+ I was beaten half to death and told I would either shape up or he would cut my throat one day. The only kind person in my family was my grandpa. He was an old Marine. Fought in WWII and Korea. My father was too much of a coward to oppose him. He had an old Elco himself. It was a demilitarized model. Lived out on a lake until he died. When he did my dad sold the boat and drank himself into the hospital. I took that as a chance to leave. I stole an old .38 wheelgun my dad owned and hopped the border into Mexico. Worked as a gunhand and went from there."

Revy jumped on board, "How old are you?"

"I'll be thirty sometime next month. I forgot the exact day, haven't exactly celebrated it in a few years. Been too busy."

Revy silently fist pumped in celebration of her guessing his age.

Benny asked the big question then, "Whats your real name?"

Ethan froze. What was his real name? How long had it been since he used it?Why couldn't he remember? Had he really been fighting that long? Used that many names? Was it even possible?

"I..I..I... I can't remember my real name. I...can't," tears rolled down his cheek.

He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. It had become a foreign concept to him even before he had run away from home. But now he let himself break down. Years of repressed feelings and memories flooded him, eating away at a resolve that had made men fear him.

* * *

"Wow. He puts on such a tough face, and then be balls like a motherfucking baby. This guy cannot be for real can he Dutch?"

Dutch looked over at Revy and then back to Ethan. He understood now what the others had picked up on. A tired mercenary who was wanting a new lease on life. The man sitting before him now showed what man could end up like. Broken. Lost. Uncertain.

"You've been in the war business for almost sixteen years. That is a long time. My only question is why you wanted to sign on as a ships mechanic when you had that much experience with a gun," he asked, his voice softening unconciously.

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He hardly heard the question, but Dutch wasn't in any hurry. He kinda understood what he meant. Men got tired of war.

Eventually Ethan answered, "I wanted to forget. I was in the game too long. I learned to be a ships mechanic so I could travel between continents easily. I got to where I enjoyed it. So I decided I would like to do that for the rest of my life."

The words Dutch uttered next surprised his three other employees, "I understand."

Revy was the first one to object, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU UNDERSTAND. HE HAS LIED TO US FROM THE BEGINNING. WE SHOULD BE KILLING HIM AND LETTING SAWYER EARN HER PAY. NOT TREATING HIM LIKE HE IS A PSYCH PATIENT WITH A PANIC ATTACK."

"Revy, haven't you every thought of leaving the violence behind. Of course I doubt you have seen violence like he probably has," Dutch turned to Ethan who was starting to compose himself, "You haven't been one of those mercs who stands around and looks pretty have you?"

Ethan looked up, "No. I've done pretty much everything. I have slaughtered women and children in Africa because some rich foreigner wanted access to the oil deposits under their village. I have sniped government officials that disagreed on certain points with my employers. I've slit a man's throat with a piece of barbed wire in front of his family because he killed a cow on some rich european mogul's land in Kenya. I have had men under my command die in the mud around me. I have trained rebels whose leaders threw them away needlessly in an open attack just because someone gave them a couple of crates of used Kalashnikovs."

"Your hands are stained red with blood. Blood that won't wash off no matter how hard you try. I understand why you wanted to leave that behind, forget it completely," Dutch told him in a reassuring tone.

Ethan stared at the weapons sitting in the case. Parts of his life that he couldn't run from. Hunks of plastic and steel that held memories he would rather get rid of. But they were a part of him.

"Dutch. I think I understand what he is saying. I just don't understand what it means," Rock said.

"I hope you never have to Rock, I really do. No one should have to live their life like that. No one."

Ethan looked Dutch in the eye for the first time, "Do I live or die now that you know my story?"

Dutch shifted a little in his boots. He knew that all he had to do was say the word and Revy would gun him down without a second thought. Usually he wouldn't hesitate. Now however, he couldn't do it. He hadn't realized just how right about it he was.

"You live, and you still have a place on the crew. I won't ask you to do anymore than you hired on for. A man has a right to his secrets, and his reasons for keeping them. I guess the real question is whether you will stay or go."

Absolute chaos broke out when Dutch finished.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS DUTCH!"

"WHAT IF HE DECIDES TO KILL US TO KEEP HIS SECRETS!"

"THIS SHOULD BE A DECISION WE ALL MAKE!"

"YOU SHOULD LET ME BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT FOR LYING IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"ENOUGH!"

Dutch's yell quietened down the crew. Ethan sat there, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Dutch.

* * *

Ethan let himself get lost in thought. Should he stay on the Lagoon? Why not, it was good work, if a little dangerous. But what about Revy? Rock and Benny might come to accept him at some point, but Revy was an unknown. He would be hard pressed to find another job around Roanapur that wouldn't require him to fight. At least on the Lagoon he was only required to keep the engines going.

"I'll stay," he said, whispering quietly.

"What," Dutch asked.

Ethan picked his head up and took a deep breath, "I said I'll stay. And its going to take more than some perpetually PMSing bitch gunslinger to run me off. I took the job, and I aim to keep it. No matter the danger to my life."

Before he had finished he had launched himself off the chair and grabbed Revy's wrists, just as her hands closed on her guns. He held on with an iron grip as she struggled.

"LET GO OF ME. LET GO," she screamed as she thrashed her self around trying to loosen his grip.

"NOT UNTIL I HAVE HAD MY SAY," he screamed back lowering his tone when she stopped, "I have seen more bloodshed than you probably ever will. And if killing is the only thing you enjoy in this world you may as well paint a wall with your own brains. You will find that you feel empty if you live long enough. I came to Roanapur because I thought that nobody would give a flying fuck about my past, and that maybe I could forget and live out my life peacefully. All those guns have a story behind them that might make even you squirm. I recognize you and me are the same. We're gutter trash, the smell will linger around us no matter how long we live. I will admit I don't have a right to judge you, and I won't even try. I don't know your story, and I won't make you tell it. If you want to try to kill me, fine, but I can assure you it won't be me going in the ground. I don't know how long you have held a gun in your hand, and I don't know the first life you took. But I can assure you, if you look far enough inside your soul, you will find a spot that wishes for peace."

He let her go gently. He expected her to fall against him crying because he was right. He hoped he was wrong about her though. He wasn't. She fell against him and cried harder than he had. She had a lot of bad memories that she had repressed, and they were hitting her all at once.

Looking to the side he saw Rock standing next to them, a worried expression planted on his face. Gently handing the crying woman to him he turned to the table. Breaking the gun down quickly with years of practice he put it back into its slots and closed the suitcase. He walked to the door.

"I will see you Monday. I need time to get my thoughts in order. It will be a while before Revy recovers though. She was worse off than I was," With that he left.

The only sounds were Revy's sobs and the words of comfort . Benny remained seated, an unreadable look on his face. Dutch sat and pondered Ethan's words. Words that held a punch harder than that of a prize fighter with each breath.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ethan sat at the small table in his apartment. On the floor beside him sat his open suitcase. In his hand was an old S&W Model 10 in .38 Special. The first gun he ever used. The same gun he had stolen from his father's desk drawer close to sixteen years earlier.

He lost track of the number of men who lost their lives to this gun. Even back then he had no mercy. His father had beaten that out of him. He remembered looking over the sights at a man who was on his knees with pure fear in his eyes, and pulling the trigger and letting the round punch a clean hole through flesh and bone, the blood and brain matter splashing back on Ethan.

Back then he had smiled at the sight. He had been turned bloodthirsty, believed that the world owed him in blood the price it had exacted from him for no reason, but now it left him empty. He felt absolutely dead inside. He was barely worth calling a man. The good he had done was outweighed by the sheer amount of evil he had done. He was a disgrace to humanity.

He flicked the revolver open. Six spent shells remained in it. The same as when he had switched to a .357 Magnum Colt Python in 1982. This was the first time he had touched the gun since he had put it in the suitcase. He reached into the case and pulled out a pistol belt with a few rounds of .38 Special in the loops.

It felt right to put it back on now. If nothing it might shut up Revy's occasional spiels about him being useless. He really didn't think he would need it, nobody really threatened him. Of course everyone left Lagoon Company alone if they wanted to live. Rock and Benny were useless in a fight, but Dutch and Revy more than made up for it.

Ejecting the casings he started slipping a round from its loop and pressing it into the cylinder. He repeated this action again, his thoughts slipping to his time around Chihuahua working as a bodyguard to some second rate hood whose name he couldn't remember.

_He was hiding behind a doorway. Shots peppered the area of the wall opposite of the door. Every once in a while when the fire slacked off he would stick his .38 out and fire it 'til it was empty and withdraw it to reload. He hit a few and killed fewer, but as long as his employer was alive he would keep fighting. _

_His employer kept jumping up from behind a thick oak wood table he had flipped on its side for cover and spray the area down with fire from an old MP40. He had yet to hit anything with it, but he thought it made him look tough. How he had yet to be hit was anyone's guess._

_A sharp resounding crack, one that could only have been made by a high powered hunting rifle was audible. At that moment his employer popped up, only to have the upper half of his head disintegrate into a mist of blood and bone fragments._

_Upon seeing this he holstered his pistol and yelled out to the attackers, "Since the guy paying me is dead I'm leaving."_

Looking back on it he wondered how he had survived. Nobody had tried to kill him as he left the house by the back door. Of course he wasn't sure anybody cared.

He went to load another cartridge only to find that all the chambers were filled. He pushed the cylinder closed. Standing he slung the belt around him. Except for being a couple of holes further out it felt almost the same. The holster still hung about the middle of his thigh and the other side of the belt hung above his hip, like how gunfighters in a western movie wore their rigs.

Taking the belt off he replaced the pistol in the holster and hung the gun on the head of his bed. He lay down and drifted off to sleep. Something did feel off as he was drifting, but he was too tired to care.

* * *

The clacking of an AK action snapped him out of sleep. Grabbing the grip of his .38 he rolled off the bed as his door flew open. The belt came with the gun and changed the weight, but he had enough experience to compensate. Pulling the trigger a round slammed between some columbian dude's eyes, splattering the wall behind him.

Rolling to his feet Ethan launched himself to the still open suitcase. As he landed he dropped the S&W and reached into the case. Withdrawing his hands a pair of blued Colt Delta Elite 10mms shone in the dim light filtering in his window as he leveled them at the door. The next man stepped up and half his face disappeared as one of the large pistols barked. Another stepped up and shared the same fate.

Seconds passed as he waited for something to happen. Nothing. Standing cautiously he kept the guns ready to fire at a moments notice. He jerked himself to the right and slammed himself against a wall his right hand gun aimed down the hallway in that direction. It was clear. He jumped to the other side repeating the process with his left hand gun. That way was also clear.

He looked at the bodies laying on the ground. Three of them. All were some thugs he had seen at the Yellow Flag. That wasn't surprising. If you wanted a thug that was easily disposed of that was the best place to head to. A gun was a dime a dozen in Roanapur, the people to use them were the same.

* * *

Revy woke up. She wasn't sure why. It was unusual for her. It was also unusual for her to have gone to bed sober, but she had needed to. She had not cried in too many years. She hadn't been able to, and when it finally happened it was enough to shake her to the very core.

She wasn't anything. She may have started out at a younger age than Ethan had, but he had her on the things he had done. He had taken more lives than she probably ever would, and he was repentant. She wasn't, she didn't know how to be. Could she even be called human.

She got out of bed and went to her closet. Reaching to a shelf in the top she got down a small box. Walking back to the bed she sat down and opened it. Inside was a little .32 S&W. The first gun she had used. The gun she used to kill her dad, and who knew how many people in Chinatown just so she could survive. She had always hidden it when it looked like she was going to get caught, and went back for it when she was free.

She kept only because it had started her down this road. Yeah she had possessed other guns. She had used an old Browning HiPower when Dutch had recruited her. Then a pair of CZ75s when she had met Chang. Her Cutlasses she had bought from the Ripoff Church and had a local gunsmith customize them to her standards. She didn't believe that she would be able to find any other that she would feel comfortable with now.

Taking the small revolver from the box she marveled at how it still felt the same in her hand after all these years. It was a little too small for her to grip properly now, but she could still use it if she needed to. She knew it would serve her as well now as it had then. Closing her eyes she placed it back in the box and shut the lid. She didn't have the right to get sentimental.

She felt embarrassed at having broken down like she had. She was stronger than that. But his words bit her in a place she didn't know existed. A place that she would kill away if it was possible. She didn't want the bad memories to affect her, she couldn't let them. She couldn't be weak, she had been down that road. All it got her was beaten and raped.

Her ears discerned a noise from the office above her apartment. Reaching over she drew a Cutlass from its holster and walked to the door. Listening to make sure it was safe she opened her door and silently stepped out. Hugging the wall she made her way to the stairs. She took them one at a time making sure to distribute her weight so the boards didn't squeak.

Reaching the door she opened it slowly, bringing the gun to bear upon the room as the door revealed more of the room. Scanning the dark area she noticed a figure at one of the windows, staring out over the city.

"You can relax Revy. Its Ethan. Someone had some thugs attack me at my apartment. It got torn up past being livable so I came here," the figure said turning so she could see its face.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't go ahead and shoot you."

Ethan chuckled, "Well I could say the 'You would have done it already' line, but that whole thing is a load of shit. I can't really think of a good reason for you not to, so I leave the decision to you. But I would prefer if you found some other way of ending my life if you decide to, I've already heard enough gunfire for one night."

Revy watched him go over to the couch and lie down, removing a pistol belt and placing it on the table before hand. She looked at the revolver in the holster. The odor of burnt powder assailed her nostrils.

"You fought back, I thought you gave up on fighting," she teased trying to get him to go for the gun to give her an excuse, Dutch wouldn't forgive her otherwise.

"You won't get a rise out of me. I did fight back. I may want to live the rest of my life in peace, but to do that I need to live. Of course saying fought back is doing the event too much justice. They never got a shot off. They were some pieces of meat that used to frequent the Yellow Flag. Weren't worth what they were paid to do me in," Ethan said as he fell asleep.

Revy lowered her pistol. No matter what he would always be gutter trash, but there was something more to him than that. He had been humanity at its worst, not just seen it. There was nothing she could do to make him angry, make him pull a gun on her.

She left the office and returned to her room. Returning the Cutlass to its holster she fell onto her bed. Curling up in a ball she started thinking about the last two months.

While she had always known Ethan wasn't on the up and up, she couldn't think of a time when he had done anything before that job for Balalaika that concerned them. He treated the crew with respect and stayed in the engine room most of the time. The only time he had killed someone was when they had been boarded by a guy hired to sabotage the Lagoon during a job. The man had not seen Ethan when he descended the ladder and had gone to work trying to puncture a hole in the block of one of the boat's engines, and Ethan came up behind him and beat him to death with a pipe wrench. The only way they knew his purpose was he had a note on him giving him orders on how to disable the Lagoon the most efficiently.

That hadn't raised a flag on any of their radars though, Ethan had become very possessive of those engines almost immediately. Hurting one of them would have been akin to hurting one of his children. If he had any, she would have to ask one day.

* * *

Dutch entered the office still somewhat drowsy having woken up only fifteen minutes earlier. He walked into the small kitchen and started ransacking the fridge for something to eat. Upon finding a half eaten container of takeout that wasn't mobile he straightened up and started for the living area. Dropping down into his chair he noticed something out of the ordinary. There was a gunbelt on the table.

He stared at the foreign item for a while, either waiting for it to perform a trick or disappear, he wasn't sure which, but he knew it didn't belong to him, Revy, Benny, and definitely not Rock. It stayed there unmoving. He racked his mind trying to figure out where it could have come from. He came up with nothing. Then a hand grabbed it and it disappeared.

The half asleep man raised his head and turned it toward the couch and the man in front of it in the process of strapping the item on. Lifting his gaze further up he identified the man, Ethan Haines, his mechanic. The man who had decided to leave war and bloodshed behind him. He was wearing a gun.

"It may be the fact that I am not fully awake, and am currently about to eat some debatable substance that may or may not be food, but I swear I see my ships mechanic standing there wearing a fucking gun. However I have trouble believing that after yesterday's events. If what I am seeing is real then he better start explaining why he is in the office this early in the morning."

Ethan sat on the couch and looked at Dutch. The black man could tell that he was conflicted. It didn't take a psychoanalyst to figure that out. But goddammit he wanted a good fucking explanation. He wanted it fucking now.

Ethan spoke, "I decided to wear a gun, maybe shut Revy up some. As to my presence, some thugs attacked me at my apartment last night. Kicked my door in. Hit one between the eyes with the .38 here, took down the other two with a pair of 10mms. They never fired a shot. I thought someone may have hired them, then I thought on the fact that I carried that case from here to my apartment in broad daylight, so they must have thought it was full of money or drugs, something like that. Didn't want to trek all the way down to the harbor and the Lagoon. I decided this would be the safest place for me to crash, but I forgot about Revy and almost got shot by her last night. Also, if you have a room available I would be obliged to you."

Though not fully aware, Dutch was able to understand what was being said. Yeah, gun may shut up Revy. Was not smart to just walk with the case during daylight hours. Attack was bad, wouldn't want to go to apartment again. Was having him in the same building as Revy after what happened yesterday a good idea? His breathing meant things may not have been as bad as he thought.

Wait. WHAT THE HELL?

Dutch became completely lucid as the information processed. Ethan was wearing a revolver. He had been attacked by some thugs. He stayed here the previous night because of that. And he wanted to live under the same roof as a woman who wanted to use his blood for interior decorating.

"Have you been drinking this morning? Cause last I recall you made Revy break down emotionally. She isn't the kind of person to forget something like that, she is going to want your head mounted on a stake for target practice. If you want the room you can have it, I will take it out of your pay as expenses. I won't however, guarantee you won't wake up dead one day from her," Dutch told the younger man.

"I don't think she will murder me in cold blood like she would most other people. I hit a nerve, not a smart move, but it has her thinking. She will reserve her decision on me until she has had time to think on what she is feeling. I do feel sorry for anyone else that pisses her off. In truth the only person that is safe around her is Rock. I think that she will turn out for the better after this though," Ethan replied, his speech calm and strong.

Dutch rubbed his temples with his left hand. He used his right to drop the questionable food on the table and sat back. He could not even guess at the motives that drove this man. While he wasn't one to run from a fight, he was a deserter from the United States Marine Corps, he had run from a hostile conflict that had left its mark on so many. Ethan was the kind of person who would have rushed headlong into at one point. He was getting too old for shit like this.

"Look in the top drawer of the desk and the keys are there. I don't have them labeled so your going to have to try the doors till you find one that opens. I hope you know what you are doing."

* * *

_**A/N: I am sorry for this taking so long. I just started back to college and I was having trouble with the last section. If things go well I may have another chapter up by my birthday the 20th. No guarantees though. I write as the story comes to me. I am still trying to work on Hell Rising and can't come up with any ideas. Bear with me. And wish me a happy 20th birthday. One more year and I can by myself a pistol. Hurry up 2014.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: B-Bird. I understand some of the trepidation you had regarding the last chapters. However your points are not really well founded. It is quite easy to tell the general style of a pistol by feel. A Colt style automatic feels quite different from a Beretta due to their respective slide designs. Plus he has been a mercenary for almost sixteen years, he has had more than one gun held to his head. I never said that he gave Balalaika her name, he just planted the seeds for it. And Fabiola had no weight behind her words, Ethan represents what she was, is, and could become. He has, as was said in the story, been the worst of humanity. He is probably one of the few people who could get to her soul with words. As it is this is a fanfic, and my interpretation of the characters.**_

**Chapter 6**

Ethan managed to find the door to the key he had picked out of the drawer within a couple of tries. The room was smaller than what he had been living in, but he could live with that. Here he had a closet, a bed and a bathroom. He really didn't need anything else that he could think of.

He threw his duffel bag down on the bed and sat down on the edge, setting the suitcase by his feet. He could admit to having lived in worse places. He shuddered when his months in Albania came to mind. He wasn't sure he would ever get the smell of rancid grease out of his nose.

A mercenary was rarely able to be picky about where they bunked down. Either they had a room and a bed, or they slept in a tent. Either there was a dry bed, or they slept in a murky swamp. Ethan had slept in both extremes. And he preferred a good bed and a solid roof over his head, less chance of malaria that way.

Ethan stood up and opened his duffel bag and started putting his clothing in the closet. There was a small dresser that he put his shorts and socks in. Any drawer that was left empty he put pistols in. He reassembled his carbine and placed it under his bed in easy reach. He placed a knife down the side next to the wall. Even when there were no reasons to be afraid it never hurt to have a weapon close at hand just in case.

He heard steps approaching the door. As light as they were it could only be Revy, and that meant he was possibly marked for death. He really didn't think she would kill him here though, or anywhere unless he gave her a good reason. She may have a love of death and killing, but she still had some humanity left, or was gaining some due to Rock's influence.

"So you are suicidal enough to move in here. I really misjudged you," She said to him, not bothering to wait for him to acknowledge her presence.

"Suicidal, you kinda have to be to do the things I've done in my life. Your from New York City aren't you? Chinatown," He said in reply.

"Yeah. Mott Street, biggest shithole in the whole place, but it was home for a while."

"Home? I wish I knew that concept. I may have at some point, but that was a long time ago. Though I guess Roanapur is starting to become like home to me. Better than a couple of places I lived in North Korea. You can actually get a decent meal here without having to massacre an entire village. I do miss Abilene sometimes though, I was born and raised there for my first fourteen years of life."

Revy, sighed, a strange sound coming from her, "I don't really remember when I left the NYC. I went down the East Coast, and then I ended up over here somehow. I quite thinking on it. Wasn't much to think on to tell the truth."

"I remember when I left Abilene," Ethan began, "My Dad had gone into the hospital with severe alcohol poisoning about two hours earlier. I sneaked into his office and stole my pistol, never had even touched a gun before then, and I ran. Jumped the border and headed for Chihuahua. I never looked back. I sold myself to anyone willing to pay me enough to eat and buy a box of cartridges when I needed to. Some of the older mercs took pity on me and started giving me some training. A couple of years later I was boarding a ship in Panama headed for South Africa. Went all throughout Africa and the Middle East for a while, around that time I gave up trying to keep track. I got good so that I could survive, I never could keep money for a long time, I ended up blowing it on liquor and whores. Before I came here I was working a job up in Siberia, some rich dude wanted a decent commander for his security contingent, but someone managed to get past the guards and killed him. His family held me responsible, and I hit the nearest port, found a boat that was headed this way and hired on as the ship's mechanic. I had heard of Roanapur several times over the years, but I never thought much about it. When I was out of a job this last time I decided to retire, come to the City of the Dead and let who I was die. I hope to finally bury that man."

"There was a woman came through here about two years ago, a former assassin for the F.A.R.C.. She came here to rescue her employer's son, he had been kidnapped by the Colombians. She succeeded and left. About six months ago she came through here again chasing the men who killed her employer, this time she had kind of an apprentice. Her apprentice made a speech like the one you made yesterday, I shrugged that one off. I couldn't understand why your words broke me down like they did until this morning, yours had a weight to them that the girl's didn't. You were right that you don't know me, but don't think that I am going to give up this life, it's all that I know. You can give up what you had, but don't expect the same from me," with that she turned on her heel and left.

Ethan sat back down on his bed. She had just given him something to think about. Did he actually remember anything clearly besides death? Was that the only purpose he had held in the last years? Who was he?

He shook his head to clear it. If he got into one of those philosophical states he would end up going somewhere he didn't belong. He was just the mechanic on a PT boat, nothing else. He gave up years of wandering namelessly through the world. He knew where his next paycheck and meal were coming from. He really didn't have anything he needed to worry about.

Ethan stood up. There was no point in sitting and moping. The day was still young, and there were beers to be drank. And he would be damned if Revy came between him and a beer.

* * *

Depending on the person their favorite place was either in bed asleep, or in bed with somone doing more aerobic activities at six in the morning. Ethan was among the first group nowadays, and had been among the latter in the past. He didn't mind being in the Lagoon's engine room though.

Chang had called Dutch with a job the night before and needed a rush on it. Dutch hadn't given any details and Ethan hadn't asked for any, he just went to work with the engines. Dutch had finally told him that they were custom built Detroits that had originally come off of a tug that had sank, they were damn good engines since the tug was half the size of the Lagoon and was used to pull supertankers that were fully loaded in Saudi Arabia.

The job from what everyone could glean was their usual pickup and delivery. They meet a cargo ship or a small tramp steamer and transfer cargo. Then they turn around and delivery the cargo to one of Chang's warehouses. Wasn't a very difficult operation. They weren't expecting trouble.

Ethan climbed up the ladder out of the engine room and started to go into the crew cabin. He stopped short. For some reason he felt some was just... wrong. He couldn't place the feeling though. It wasn't mechanical. The hull was sound. Revy wasn't wanting to kill him for any reason he could bring to mind. Something just felt wrong.

He stepped through the hatch leading to the cockpit. Dutch was sitting in his chair like he usually was. He didn't acknowledge Ethan's entrance, but there wasn't any reason for him to. There were five people on-board. Revy and Rock were in the armory. Benny was in his electronics cabin. Ethan was usually in the engine room, but it wasn't uncommon for him to sit around in the cockpit to escape the air down there.

"Hey Dutch," Ethan started.

"Huh," came the distracted reply.

"Do you feel like something is just, not right."

"What do mean?"

"I just feel like something is wrong, but I can't place what it is."

"Maybe you have an exhaust leak, I feel really good about everything."

"One, I go over the exhaust system every time you start the engines. Two, I think this job is not going to be real smooth going. I just can't figure out why I feel like something is wrong."

Ethan absently drew his pistol out and checked the cylinder to make sure it was combat ready. He hoped that maybe he had contracted a stomach bug or something of the like, but with his track record with luck it was unlikely. He had one thought during all this: Taiwan. He wished he had had a better family.

He was under the command of a Taiwanese officer to act in a trainer capacity to some special forces troops training them in irregular warfare tactics. They got called out to do maneuvers for training in a section of forest land. Ethan had expressed how he felt that it was a mistake. During the maneuvers they stumbled upon a drug smuggling compound and were engaged in a firefight. Twenty five men had gone in with him, he only had six left when the dust settled. They had wiped out the smugglers to a man. He had been fired when he had told the brass that he thought that they needed to get their heads out of their asses and see what was going on.

He tended to trust his feelings of when things didn't feel right. He had survived because he trusted his gut. Why did nobody listen to him until something bad occurred. Really, it wasn't like he was saying that the sky was falling.

* * *

A couple of hours after he gave Dutch his concerns they arrived at the rendezvous point. They waited another couple of hours for the other vessel. Rock shouted from the machine gun stand. Looking out to the port side bow a small ship was seen. It appeared to be a small freighter, about 10,000 tons. The name was in Chinese characters so most of the crew was unable to read it.

"Hey Rock, whats that say," Ethan called up to the Japanese man.

"It says the Shining Tiger."

"ETHAN, REVY," Dutch called out.

It took the two requested people seconds to reach the hatch.

"They were supposed to give us a sign, three long blows of their foghorn. They haven't given it. You may have been right about something being wrong. Make sure your ready for the shooting."

Revy touched the grips of her Cutlasses, and Ethan undid the snap on his holster. Both killers silently prepared for the death that was coming. Ethan let his emotions fade. Revy let her excitement build. For one killing was tiring, the other plain ecstasy.

Dutch couldn't help but notice how different the two reacted. Revy wanted to do this, she lived for this. Ethan was resigned, killing was just another action to him, he had lost any joy the kill would have brought when he was younger. They were the two extremes. And it scared Dutch. It chilled him to his very core.

The two went to the bow, waiting for Dutch to bring the Lagoon alongsides. Revy was stroking the trigger guards on her pistols like she was getting some kind of sexual release from it. Ethan just stood there, his hand hanging with his wrist even with the butt of his gun. Out of nowhere Ethan started singing in a deep low voice.

_Fifteen men on a dead man's chest._

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_Drink and the Devil have done for the rest._

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_The mate was fixed by the Bo'sun's pike_

_The bo'sun brained with a marlin-spike_

_The cookie's throat was marked belike_

_ Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_It had been clutched by fingers ten_

_And there they lay all good dead men,_

_Like break o' day in a boozin' ken_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men of the whole ship's list_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_Dead and Bedamned and their souls gone west_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_The skipper lay with his nob in gore_

_Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore_

_And the scullion he was stabbed four times four_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_And there they lay, and the soggy skies_

_Rained all night long in upstaring eyes_

_By murk sunset and by foul sunrise_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_Ten of the crew bore the murder mark_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

_'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead_

_Or a gaping hole in a battered head_

_And the scuppers glut of a rotting red_

_Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of rum._

Revy turned to him, "Why did you stop? Got tired of creeping me out?"

Ethan didn't even turn, "I forgot the rest of the words."

"Why the fuck did you start singing that anyway, I've heard it before, but the way you were singing it was just... haunting. Like you were tearing away at my soul with it."

"It was something one of my mentors taught me. Sing something to relax you, usually I choose heavy metal, this time I chose a very dreary sea shanty."

Nothing more was said. The Lagoon barely bumped the side of the freighter. Ethan tossed a grappling hook up over the side of the larger vessel. Making sure it was secure he motioned for Revy to start up it, and started climbing when she was halfway up.

Since the ship's deck was only ten foot above the Lagoon it didn't take them long to reach it. Dropping silently each held their respective weapons at the ready. Ethan reached over and tapped Revy under the chin with the muzzle of his revolver and motioned to her right when she turned, he then tapped himself under the chin and motioned the other way.

The two broke off. Intermittently there were bouts of gunfire which lasted seconds. Dutch felt some concern when he failed to hear his mechanic's .38. Revy's 9mms seemed to boom out frequently.

* * *

An hour passed. Dutch, Rock, and Benny watched the railing waiting. They all exhaled when both gunners stepped over to the rail and waved down.

"Dutch, what the hell is the cargo we were supposed to deliver. I can't find a damn thing on this tub," Ethan called down.

Dutch cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, "There was supposed to be three shipping crates. They were filled medical equipment. X-ray machines and such."

"They aren't here. In fact we weren't the first to board her. There were a bunch of Vietnamese guys on board with AKs. We put them down pretty easy, but they must have offloaded somewhere else after they took the ship," came the reply.

Locating a ladder Ethan threw it down and him and Revy returned to the smaller vessel. Opening the cylinder on his gun he ejected the spent casings and reloaded. Dutch went below to call Chang and give him the news. No one onboard wanted to hear what Chang had to say about the events.

The time passed slowly as they waited for Dutch to come reveal what he had been told. After about ten minutes he reappeared.

"Chang was pissed, but he said for us not to worry about it. He is sending someone out here to recover his ship. He is going to pay us half since we dealt with the people who hijacked it. He also expressed an interest in meeting Ethan," He said matter of factly.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, "Why would he want to meet a grease monkey with a six gun?"

"Believe it or not, there really aren't that many people who know you exist in Roanapur. You fit in with most of the population. You look scruffy, You carry yourself in a world weary manner, and you look like you could wrestle and elephant to the ground."

Benny chuckled, "If only the rest of us could be so obscure. Fame doesn't agree with people in Roanapur."

* * *

_**A/N: I think that at some point in time I asked people not to mindlessly berate my writing. If trying to tear down someone makes you feel big, then go suck on a shotgun barrel, the rest of us will be better off. I try to only criticize when it is actually needed, and never about someone's OCs. I won't admit to being really high class, hell my idea of high fashion includes a pair of steel toe boots, but I try to have some class when I review. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The 14K Triad was the oldest criminal group in Roanapur. They had shown up in the mid eighties and carved an impressive swath of territory that covered almost the entire city. Though if you wanted to get technical the Church of Violence had been there since 1953 it had never carved out a territory, they just sold guns.

Chang had arrived to take over sometime before '93. Originally he had been a cop in Hong Kong. He had fought with Balalaika when she had first arrived that year. After the battles the city was divided. Anything that didn't go to the 14K or Hotel Moscow was snatched up by the smaller syndicates that rode in during the chaos. And that was the end of the information on Chang's background that Rock could provide.

Revy had said something about him having tutored her in the use of twin pistols, but he hadn't paid attention. He had watched Revy shoot. She wasn't too bad, but she let herself become lost in the violence and use more ammunition than she needed because she was having fun.

The Triad's offices were in a high rise on the east side of the city. It was pretty much the tallest building that one could find. Chang's office had a fairly good view of the harbor. And it had an almost garish red color scheme.

The Lagoon Company sat in the man's office waiting for him to arrive. The four originals were sitting while Ethan was absorbed in a display with several pairs of handguns, all matched perfectly. Besides the numerous traditional Chinese hangings and pots they were the only decoration.

"Like what you see there," someone asked him.

"Beretta 76s, AMT Hardballers, and unless I miss my guess those are original military CZ75s. Quite a display, I haven't seen one this impressive in a few years," Ethan turned to face a Chinese man dressed in black.

Black Suit. Black overcoat. Black sunglasses. The only things he wore that weren't black was a white shirt and a white scarf. He definitely filled out the figure of a gangster.

"All of them are well used. The Berettas still get used every once in a while. You must be the mechanic Dutch told me he hired. Chang Wai-San."

"Ethan Haines. Ships Mechanic on the Black Lagoon."

Dutch chuckled, "Well with introductions out of the way, are you wanting us to try to get that equipment back?"

"Always down to business. I see it being easier to just buy new equipment rather than wasting the ammunition trying to reclaim it. I was really only pissed about loosing the crew. However instead of having you meet a freighter and transfer the cargo I want you to go pick it up at the source. You know the old saying, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me," He said.

"Should we worry about more of those idiots. They really aren't even worth the time as low grade as they are," Ethan asked.

"Odd question from a mechanic."

Revy snorted, "He can handle way more than a wrench."

Chang smiled at the girl's statement. But he really didn't see anything special about the man. He looked like every other thug that popped up out of the woodwork in the town. He could go to any of the bars and hire a half a dozen of him. And do it again the next day and the day after that.

"I have to ask Dutch, where did you find this guy," the Chinese gangster asked.

"He came into the Yellow Flag looking for work and I hired him. He does a hell of a better job with the engines than I ever could. And he has proven himself to be able to survive Revy without much trouble."

Ethan smirked, "I believe she commented at some point that a bullet costs more than the satisfaction she would gain by blowing my brains out of my fucking skull."

Chang shook his head as he chuckled, "Dutch, I will get in touch when the equipment is ready to be picked up. Revy, don't kill him, he actually has a halfway decent sense of humor. It was good meeting you Ethan, stop by some time if you get the chance. It's always nice to see a friendly face in this city."

* * *

When they arrived back at the office Ethan decided to take a walk. Roanapur at night was different than it was during the day. There was an almost serene quality to it, though that may have just been Ethan's comparison to some of the places he had been.

The lights reminded him a little of Moscow, Paris, Berlin, and other cities he had seen in Europe and Asia. They were almost hypnotic the way they shone. The neon tinting the air around the lights with a dull glow, and the streetlights cutting out white circles where they stood. It was intoxicating to him after having spent his life in one hot zone after another. Mexico, Kenya, Afghanistan, and Somalia.

He stopped at a corner next to an alleyway. Shortly he felt something nudge him in the back. After sixteen years he could tell easily when someone held a gun to him. He raised his hands up above his head like he was going to surrender, and then snapped his right arm back, his elbow driving into his assailants solar plexus downing them. Then it occurred to him he had felt boobs.

Keeping his hand next to his own gun he turned. The girl he saw on the ground before him couldn't have been more than sixteen. Her light skin gave away the fact she wasn't Thai. Squatting down Ethan picked up a Rohm .22. It didn't take him more than a second to figure out where she was from when he noticed the blond hair and green eyes.

"Now this may seem like a completely oblivious question, but what the hell is some kid from Czechoslovakia doing here trying to hold up a passerby," he asked kindly, but with enough of a commanding tone to get her attention.

The girl said nothing. She stared daggers into his eyes, like she could kill him with the look alone.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer."

The girl just kept staring at him.

"Are you dumb or something?"

The girl slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact.

"Hmm. Well that may answer the holding up a passerby, hard to find a job when you can't say anything."

'Hmm. Why is she here in the first place though? It isn't like Roanapur is in the top ten tourist destinations. What to do with her? I can't just leave her to the mercy of the streets, I've seen too many girls get swallowed up by them. I mig... No! Revy would definitely kill me. Or she might see it as someone else to make life miserable for. Wait. Why do I care? Am I going soft in my advancing age? Listen to me, I'm only thirty, not sixty something. God, if you exist, please help me for what I am about to do.' Ethan's thoughts went by like a freight train.

"I am going to regret doing this, but come with me. And before you start to run the other way let me tell you this: this city will strip the flesh from your bones if you aren't prepared. To most of the people out here you are nothing more than a piece of meat. They will devour you like dogs. I can at the least promise you one decent meal for tonight," he told the girl, knowing full well the response he would get from the rest of Lagoon company.

* * *

"Like them young do we? I ain't surprised," Revy sneered when the two arrived at the office.

Ethan fixed her with a stare that would have melted lead, "If you ever make that assertion ever again I will put a bullet in your pretty little head. For your information my young friend here just tried to rob me at gunpoint. I didn't feel right leaving her out there."

"Why not," Dutch asked, "It isn't like there aren't a hundred others like her out there."

"Maybe I'm going soft, and it may also have to do with the fact she's dumb," he replied.

"You act nice to her and then insult her intelligence, priceless," the female gunslinger cackled.

"It doesn't have to do with intelligence," the mechanic said evenly, "It means that she can't speak. There is some problem with her vocal cords or the speech centers in her brain."

Throughout the whole thing the girl just stood a little ways behind Ethan. Looking around she noticed a notepad and a pen on a counter. Walking over she picked up the pen and wrote down a couple of lines and took the pad to the one person in the room who had not looked at her apathetically.

Rock took the offered pad and read the text.

_Is he not mad at me?_

Rock shook his head

_Why? I stuck a gun in his back and was going to rob him._

Rock sighed, "Ethan is a unique person. It is really hard to upset him."

_But why did he bring me here? For all he knows I may cut everyone's throat when their not looking._

Rock laughed, "You would have trouble cutting Ethan's throat. He doesn't sleep real deeply. He is also a really good judge of people. By the way what's your name?"

_Heidi. And tell him I am Belgian, not Czech._

"Hey Ethan," Rock called out.

"Yeah Rock," Ethan said, ignoring what point Revy was about to make in their argument.

"Her name is Heidi, and she is Belgian, not Czech."

"Ok Heidi. Write us an essay telling why you are in this hellhole of a city," Benny joked.

_Me and my dad came here about eight months ago. He was looking for work wherever he could look. He was a carpenter by trade, and he had hoped to find work doing construction in the city. He was coming back to our hotel room when someone shot him in the back. They didn't take anything off his body, they just shot him and walked away. My dad had payed for six months in advance on the room so I stayed there until it ran out and the manager told me to beat it unless I slept with him. I ran out of the building with everything I could carry. I slept where I could and stole most of the food I ate. I found a pistol earlier today and worked up the courage to try to rob someone when I tried Ethan._

The crew read the note and digested it. Ethan wasn't surprised, she hadn't much choice. Revy thought it was just some sob story. Dutch wasn't convinced that it was any of Ethan's concern. Benny didn't really know what to think of the situation. Rock felt sorry for her though.

She was forced into the city without a choice. She didn't have anyone to turn to. At least when he came here Dutch was halfway friendly to him. She literally had no one. That she had survived the last two months without somewhere to stay was a miracle in and of itself.

After a few minutes of silence Dutch spoke up, "Since you brought her here what do you suppose we do with her?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could keep her around for a maid or something," and Ethan once again noticed the flinch that happened anytime some said the word maid in Roanapur, "Ok. What is it with people in this town and the word maid. Any time it is said I swear everyone is about ready to go into kiss their ass goodbye mode."

"I will explain that later, however the idea isn't too bad. Just let it be known that if we do she gets paid out of your cut," Dutch warned.

"OK. HOLD UP. Dutch we don't know anything about her-"

Ethan interrupted her, "You wouldn't have to do your own laundry, or clean your room yourself."

Revy did a u-turn, "You have beautiful eyes Heidi. Why don't we find you something to eat," she almost bodily drug the young girl from the room.

Ethan turned to Dutch, "My ulterior motive: get Revy to leave my ass alone. I didn't feel right leaving her out there to suffer like most of the teenage girls on the streets do."

"As long as she does a good job I don't care, like I said; your paycheck," the man said amused.

* * *

It didn't take Heidi long to become an indispensable part of Lagoon Company. While she couldn't answer phones or such, she kept the office and apartments almost spotless. Amazingly enough it was Revy who got along best with her, Ethan figured she was just doing it to butter her up to keep her laundry washed since the male members still did their own laundry.

The biggest rule for her was to leave the Black Lagoon alone. They left it messy to give themselves something to bitch about to take their minds off the possibility of a job going pear shaped. It was an unspoken agreement.

And the girl could cook. Heidi's mother had died during childbirth so she hadn't gotten to know her, so her grandmother had taught her the things all women should know. Damn she could cook.

But more importantly just knowing that they kept her from the hell of being forced into prostitution and the possibility of ending up in a gutter with her throat cut gave them a feeling people in this city weren't used to. That there might actually be some speck of hope in the one city that the gods had decided to tell fuck off.

Ethan wasn't used to the feeling. For so long the only thing that inspired anything besides resignment was a rifle with a full magazine and a clear field of fire. Mercenaries are expendable. They have no loyalties except to the person paying them. Truly disposable soldiers.

"If your quite done daydreaming, would you terribly mind getting OFF YOUR FUCKING ASS AND HELPING ME MOVE THIS PIECE OF SHIT," a very upset female voice burrowed into Ethan's head.

"Revy, shut the fuck up and I will help. I ain't any good to anyone if I'm deaf," He seethed rubbing his ears knowing full well it wouldn't help.

Ethan got on the otherside of the crate that the crane was lowering onto the PT boat's deck. Nudging the crate as it descended they managed to navigate it to the tiedown area. When the crate touched down Ethan noticed the boat sink somewhat. Walking over to the side he checked the waterline and noticed it was about a inch above where it should have been with a deck cargo.

"Hey Dutch. What is in that crate," he called to the man who was talking to the loadmaster.

The loadmaster answered, "That is an x-ray machine. The crate is lead lined to prevent radiation from leaking out."

Ethan absently stroked the grip of one of the Berettas he was wearing. He had chosen to wear them over his .38 to compensate in case of a pirate attack. He had gotten a very contempt filled look from Revy when she had noticed.

"How many crates are left. Cause if there are more than two more that size or enough to make them up then we will be riding too low in the water. We may also need to move some of them to the rear deck to even the loading."

Dutch looked up and down the length of the boat and nodded. Ethan motioned to the crane operator to start setting the crates on the aft deck. About a half an hour later the crates were loaded and tied down and they were ready to get underway.

Ethan told Dutch to not give anymore than three quarters throttle due to the weight. Normally there would be no problem with them going full out, but he didn't want to overstress the engines since he had replaced all the seals just before they had left Roanapur for Rach Gia.

* * *

Ethan had gotten tired of the engine room two hours after they left Vietnam. He decided to take up a position on top of the control room and went to sleep. He actually slept a little deeper than he should have.

_Fire shone in the skies for the third day in a row. A young man stood on a rooftop looking out over the town in Zimbabwe. He didn't care the name. It was only another name._

_He let his hand fondle the knob on the rifle's bolt. Just by the weight he could tell that the internal magazine was full. Five rounds of .30-06 Springfield. He checked over the scope. When he was satisfied that everything was in order he went to the edge of the roof and scanned the area below. _

_Looking over the men he saw there he picked out one that was dressed a little finer than the others. He settled the crosshairs on a spot under the man's eye. A half second later the rifle let a round loose, a suppressor on the end muffling the sound from the report. What seemed like an hour later the back of the man's head exploded into a brilliant red and gray burst, painting his subordinates and the wall behind him._

_A plethora of different weapons were raised. They scrambled around trying to find out where the sniper was. They were started when another man's chest disappeared. A third's left arm went away just above the wrist. The fourth lost his intestines. The last took a round in the neck._

_The sniper ejected the last round and went to move. A sudden burning in his shoulder made him fall to his knees. Drawing a pistol he whirled to face the ladder that led to the roof. As soon as a head and gun peeked up over the edge he fired. A thump was heard as the body hit the ground._

_Crawling to an air conditioning unit he set his back against it. His rifle lay discarded a few feet away. He probed both sides of his shoulder and felt a hole going in and one coming out, a clean through and through. His biggest concern now was infection and blood loss. _

_Gathering into a crouch he made his way to the ladder. Drawing his knife he used it to check the area below as if he had a mirror instead. When he ascertained that the area was clear he made his way to the ground. Checking the body of his attacker he found nothing useful to take with him._

_Listening for any possible pursuit he set off towards the headquarters of his employers a mile away. He slipped through shadows and burned out buildings. Every time he saw an enemy patrol he shrunk into what ever dark spot he could find, ready to fight if it came down to it._

_Close to an hour later he came to the border of friendly lines. Finding a small building that had been burned out he crawled into it and rested for a while. He started to doze off despite the fact it would be a death sentence. Either he bled to death, or someone came upon him and splattered his brains._

_For a few minutes he drifted in and out of consciousness. Every time his vision cleared he tried to move, and he failed. He knew the sands were running out. At any moment he could wake to a bullet in the head, or even a gaping throat._

"_Sniper, Sniper, Snip..."_

"...han. Hey wake up dammit, we've got guests we need to greet."

As Ethan sat up the world cleared up some. He recalled where he was, the Gulf of Thailand. And when he was, '97 as opposed to '82. And who had yelled at him, Revy rather than some random soldier.

Drawing his guns the retired mercenary yawned, "It is rather impolite to keep them waiting isn't. Well, after you my good lady. Believe your manners may be a little fresher than mine are."

* * *

_**A/N: Well a big gun battle is about to occur. I do apologize for the wait. I struggled with the ending of the chapter due to that little flashback. Hopefully you won't have to suffer that long a time again. Also for the most part ignore Heidi, she is purely filler. I needed some moral dilemma for Ethan to deal with, and I was being lazy. She will be seen again, most likely throwing out week old cold pizza. Also I will be taking a short break to work on my Hellsing story.  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I got into this chapter and it started fighting me something awful. I finally found the right words to give and I hope you enjoy them. Also tell me what you think of my using the actual Russian language. If you think it enhances the story I will start doing partial translations for chinglish. I mean Shenhua.**_

**Chapter 8**

The small launches were packed to the gunwales with the scruffiest looking Vietnamese men that anyone could ever attest to having seen. Though mostly armed with AKs there was a mish mash of other weapons. One was even armed with what appeared to be a human femur with the ball coated in iron. All in all they were indistinguishable from almost any other group of pirates in the area.

That did not impress the Black Lagoon's crew. Mostly because they couldn't see the occupants of the quartet of small watercraft. Nor could said occupants see them. They all knew the other was there, and the pirates were nervous.

The prowess of Revy Two Hands was well known all over the Southeast Asian criminal underworld. Several cartels had a bounty out for her guns. Some wanted her taken alive to be broken down and sold as a sex slave. Others sent her letters asking her not to wipe them out for fun. Ethan had thought the last one was a joke that Benny had made up until Revy showed him one of those letters.

The four boats split and went to either side of the larger vessel. Upon reaching a few yards from the stern of the PT boat the pirates noticed two shapes standing at either side. They clearly recognized Revy on the port, and a larger male figure to starboard, and both holding a pair of handguns.

One of the pirates on the side with the male got brave and leveled his gun, only to take an expertly placed snapshot through the eye from his intended target. The man stood there his pistol seeming to suck in all the light around it. Then he raised the twin to it as Revy leveled hers.

Rock watched from a partially opened hatchway as they started firing. He had seen Revy massacre people many times. However something was different. Somehow she and Ethan fell into sync. The sounds of their guns seemed to weave together to the point that you could not tell who fired. Looking at the launches that he could see one was filled with corpses, the other was trying to turn away but could not out run the projectiles flying from the muzzles of Ethan's pistols.

Silence suddenly ensued. The three members of the Lagoon's crew who had not participated emerged from the cabin and were shocked by the sight. The pirates never fired a single round. Their corpse either filled the boats or floated near them, staining the once blue water a sickly crimson. The boats were starting to take on water from the plethora of holes lining their hulls. And the two responsible still stood their guns outstretched, smoke pouring from the barrels and open chambers.

Benny, though he knew the kind of carnage Revy could make, was unprepared for the sight and rushed to the side of the PT boat to empty his stomach. Rock was somewhat shocked, but took it in better stride than the computer expert. Dutch could only gaze in wonder and amazement of what two people who did not exactly get along all that well could do.

It may have come from the fact they were not too different from each other, or their expertise in a fight, but they showed a true talent for taking lives. The true beauty was in how they mirrored each others pose, feet planted shoulder width apart, and their arms outstretched with the guns at a slight angle from their bodies. Had he not had as much sense he would have tried to take a picture of them, he knew better than to even try to remember where the camera was.

The peace was finally ended when first one set then another of slide releases were triggered and the guns closed off the chambers to the outside world. Revy returned her cutlasses to the places beneath her arms as Ethan slid his into place at his hips.

"I don't think that was supposed to be what happened. Can't say that I don't appreciate the results though. If you need me I am going to go take a nap in the engine room," the desperado said as he turned toward the appropriate hatchway.

Benny stood from where he was hunched over the side, "HOW THE FUCK CAN THIS NOT BOTHER YOU. HOW I HAVE NOT EVEN REACTED BEFORE NOW I DON'T KNOW. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR HEADS THAT YOU CAN DO THIS..." Dutch hit him just under the chin flooring him.

Ethan had stopped during the rant. Everyone just looked at him. He clenched his hands around the grips of the paired weapons he wore. His breathing became ragged.

Turning he stepped over to the geek, "You think this is easy for anyone. Killing takes something out of a person. No I don't have the ability to feel the same set of emotions you do. Most of them have been killed off by doing things like this. The most of what I can feel is recoil. If you are ever forced to pull the trigger on some poor son of a bitch you will understand. Does this bother me, quite frankly no. This is nothing compared to some of the shit I did in Africa. You have no right to judge me or Revy, you cannot relate to us," he drew his right hand gun, tripped the mag release, and slammed a mag home and shoved the gun in Benny's hand, "However if it bothers you so much put me down. The trigger on that gun breaks at 3lbs. it barely takes a jerk to set it off. Its loaded with soft point FMJ rounds. I will have a perfect hole in my skull going in, and no back to my skull."

Benny lifted the weapon in perfect line with the mercenaries heart. For several minutes time seemed to stand still. Then he let the Beretta fall. Ethan retrieved it and disappeared into the bowels of the boat. Revy followed after him.

"Did he really do that Dutch?," Rock asked.

The black man didn't say anything for several minutes. He was still piecing it together. He had not expected it. He hadn't expected Benny to fall out like that.

"That was the action of a man who has just done something he wholeheartedly wished had not been a necessity. To him that was something minor, something that was not a drop in the bucket of what he had done. He was serious though. He would not have faulted him for pulling the trigger. However Revy found it fun. Something in her mind is messed up, and she revels in blood. However much you think you may know her Rock, you don't even have an idea."

* * *

The Black Lagoon smoothly glided into her berth in Roanapur's small port. Ethan hopped onto the concrete side with the hawser and secured it to the cleat. Were they at some other port they would have been required to have multiple hawsers secured, but in this city it could mean the difference between the vessel hitting open water or being sank at its moors.

Dutch threw down the plank and the others shuffled off. Usually there was banter thrown around during this operation, but this day there was silence. The massacre committed by the two gunners still hung over the crew. Benny had calmed down and collected himself. Rock had continued to think on what Dutch had said to him. And the boss went up to the warehouse office to call Chang to send a crew to get the cargo.

Ethan and Revy stuck together closer than usual. Benny's rant had consolidated them in who they were. Killers and criminals. Outcasts in a city of outcasts. Ethan one who had resigned himself, Revy one who reveled in it. Street trash that had found their place in the world.

"Dutch, I heard something funny coming from the port side water intake. I'm going to stay and look it over. Last thing we need is for it to go out in the middle of the South China Sea with some of the characters out for our heads," Ethan said walking toward a small locker that held an aqualung he used to do underwater inspections.

Dutch only nodded and gave a grunt. The other four left the warehouse leaving Ethan alone in the building. He stopped when he heard the car drive off. Suddenly he sent his fist straight out to the side and dented the steel wall. He didn't really register the pain, too much was going through his head at the moment.

The pirates had all been men out for an easy buck and without a shit for human life. One of them splatters some poor S.O.B.'s skull and it happens. For him it took something from his soul, and there wasn't much left there to lose. Every time he took a life he expected to just fall over dead as punishment for his sins. He deserved to at that. At one time he was Revy. Kill, kill, kill. Fun, fun, fun. But he grew up, she hadn't.

He clenched his fists and listened to the bones pop and the skin strain around the scars that decorated his knuckles. Mementos of actions he had done in the past. Physical manifestations of the crimes most people had probably forgotten by not. Avatars of the pain he felt. Memories that he could not erase, no matter how many bottles or women or whatever else he went through. There was no atonement for him in his mind.

He waited a while longer and then left for the Lagoon Company's office and his bed. Nobody molested him on the way there. The locals had started to equate him with Revy and Dutch and didn't want to incur their wrath, nor the wrath of the crime syndicates that were their friends. Really didn't matter to him, for all he knew one of these pathetic street thugs carried his bullet. The one that would put him in a box six down.

* * *

The night air really didn't help him on this night. Benny had spoken words that not many people would have had the courage to say after seeing that. They were words that needed to be said. What had happened to the pair of gunslingers to make them how they were was individual, and extremely painful to each. Their stories belonged to them and it would be an extreme situation before they told anyone the full version.

All the traffic around him was drowned out by his thoughts. Unbeknownst to him a large black SUV veered slightly and headed straight at him. With a great roar the driver let the engine wide open and accelerated full bore at the man. Hearing the din Ethan glanced behind him and jumped to the side, drawing his guns and riddling the driver side of the windshield with 9mm.

Seconds passed as Ethan lay in the street, his guns aimed at the vehicle that was smoking from hitting a building. He stood and popped the empty magazines from his guns and replaced them with fresh ones. Approaching the hulk the back door swung open and an occupant hit the ground. It didn't take a split second for him to register the AN94 rifle on the ground next to the dazed figure. Scanning the vehicle he ascertained that the other two occupants were deceased. The driver from a plethora of bullet holes in his head, and the passenger, a female with a AKS-74U, had been killed by a broken neck when the truck hit the building. Ethan looked down at the third individual as he kicked the gun away.

"Сукин сын (Son of a bitch)," the soldier said as he recovered.

Ethan snickered and addressed him, "Вы поцеловать вашу мать с этот рот? (Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?)"

"Вы американский диплом пятно, вы убили Олег и Галина. Вы действительно трахал себя теперь. Галина была любимая дочь полковника Бугаков. Вы принесли вниз гнева спецназ сейчас.(You American cumstain, you killed Oleg and Galina. You really fucked yourself now. Galina was the beloved daughter of Colonel Bugakov. You have brought down the wrath of the spetsnaz now.)"

"Один. Это был unneccesarily графики. Два. Кто является полковник Бугаков. (One. That was unneccesarily graphic. Two. Who is Colonel Bugakov.)"

The foul mouth Russian smiled as he said his next piece, "Он — брат человек, которого вы не смогли защитить. (He is the brother of the man you failed to protect.)"

Ethan closed his eyes, "Спасибо (Thank you.)," he then put a hole between the man's eyes.

In all the eventualities he had kept in mind he had not planned for there to be a psycho Russian on a revenge kick after his ass. While he wasn't surprised he still had not planned on it. It gave him very few viable options on how to handle the situation.

Option 1- Get the fuck out of Dodge and don't stop in fucking Reno.

Option 2- Ask Revy and Dutch for help fighting them. Revy would love him for it.

Option 3(the most tenable)- Ask Balalaika and her men for help after explaining the situation to them.

Grabbing the AN94 he hightailed it to Hotel Moscow. Being as he didn't have an appointment he figured that if they were really military men they would fawn over the gun like school girls and that would get him past the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Balalaika reclined in her chair, weary from the oppressive amount of paperwork she was facing. She briefly considered someway to trick Rock into doing it. However that would depend on whether the Lagoon was in port or at sea on a job. As it was Dutch would prefer she not use his employees as conscripted labor. It was tempting, but ultimately not worth the effort. If only one of the Desan'tniki was a secretary instead of just a soldier, it would make things so much easier.

Despite the paperwork her mind kept wavering over to Mag, or Ethan Haines as he now called himself. Why, she had no idea. There wasn't any attraction, sexual or otherwise, and why would he want to sleep with a scarred up old cow like her when there were more appealing women walking the street wearing next to nothing. She had only offered herself to him in a moment of weakness since he saved her life, and that was what a woman was supposed to do for her savior, right.

Shaking her head she went back to the paperwork. On the top was her oh so favorite subject, money brought in by sales of hardcore pornography. The paperwork could wait, she could not remember the last time she had taken her rifle to the range for some practice. The time would give her a chance to think of a solution to the mountain on her desk.

A sudden noise in the hallway outside her door caught her attention. It wasn't the usual sounds made by her men moving around. It wasn't gunshots either. It sounded more like someone being thrown against a wall at a decent speed. What ever it was it needed to stop, otherwise there was going to be some major trouble and she was already pissed off.

Before she could stand though her doors flew open and one of her men went skidding on the carpet. Her first action was think that there was no way that could have felt pleasant, her next was to look up. In the doorway stood her current mental problem.

"Mag, sweetheart, is there a reason you have broken into my office instead of calling ahead," she asked calmly.

Ethan stood there somewhat stooped over breathing heavily, " Give...me...a...minu...te. Little...out of...shape."

Shaking her head she motioned to a couch. Not giving it a second though Ethan walked over and fell face first on the piece of furniture.

He then began brokenly, "Needed to talk to you. Uhhhh. Thought handing guards an AN94 would distract them, didn't. Asked how they would let me in. Said if I could beat everyone of them in the building I could see you. Needless to say I am here. They are really well trained."

She examined him from where she had moved to during his explanation. He looked like he had been hit by a truck. There was blood coming from his nose, a busted lip, and a couple of cuts on his face. Either he was meaner than an entire division of the VDV, or he was highly motivated to get to her, maybe both.

"What is so important you put yourself through this kind of abuse. Willingly," she asked.

"Fucked in the head Spetsnaz Colonel wants my head. His brother hired me to head up a security contingent. Some really high grade backstabber got through and did him in. When I found out I found a boat here. That was close to ten months ago now. The Colonel's name is Bugakov. I can't handle an entire regiment of special forces, no matter the country. I am going to need high grade help to survive this, and you want to pay me back for Afghanistan. This is how, a life for a life."

"How do you know he is after you. When the Spetsnaz do a job it gets done?"

Ethan looked up, "He sent a hit squad of three of his soldiers. Tried to run me over, ventilated the driver, vehicle hit the building and killed the front passenger, and the last managed to climb out and tell me what he thought of me and who was after me before I put him down."

This left Balalaika with a dilemma. She did owe him and this would be a fair trade. Her biggest hang up was that only a handful of her men were capable of standing against soldiers of this caliber. And with them getting older she had no clue how many were physically able, especially with Mag being able to layout all of them that were there at the moment. These soldiers would be younger and fresher, and were being led by an experienced commander they were unwaveringly loyal to. It was a big risk. It was also what she had been searching for all these years. A battle that would give her and her men a chance to die with their honor.

* * *

"Ok, let me get this straight. You met big sis in '86. You were working for the Mujahideen. The cell you were assigned to captured her, was going to rape and kill her, and you murdered them and helped her escape. How the fuck is that supposed to make sense. You capture someone you weight their head and leave them rotting," Revy said through the door to Ethan's room.

"My better side got the best of me. Let's leave it at that alright. Despite most of the shit I've done I still have something akin to a man in this shell. I got her back to the Russian line and she owes me," Returned the subject of interrogation.

"So you didn't fuck her head off as a reward. What a limp dick you are. She couldn't have looked too bad in those days. Besides you were nineteen, every guy that age I've encountered was hornier than a dog all the time."

"I had a little more self control. Five years of getting shot at will do things like that to a person. Besides she literally made me search through twenty or so piece of crap Dragunavs until she found hers, otherwise she was going to stay at the camp. I wanted no other attachment to her. Besides at nineteen I was looking for girls that were sixteen or seventeen. I have always gone for younger women."

The door to the room opened to reveal a very different man from who Revy was used to. This man was clean shaven, wore all black with a tac vest with six holsters filled with three paired sets of handguns of different chamberings, his hair was drawn back into a short ponytail, and he was holding his M4 as if it was an extension of himself. He was the most beautiful sight she had seen in her life.

"My god, has that always been hiding underneath the disguise of some random fuck head," the female gunner asked somewhat breathless.

"If I try I could have almost any woman fall over me. I have had confessed dykes fall head over heels for me. Wait, something is different," and it hit him.

While she had carried twin chrome plated Berettas with faux pearl grips, instead her holsters contained a paired set of INOX Beretta 92Fs with 5.9" barrels, real pearl grips with an inlay of a Jolly Roger, and 9mm Sword Cutlass Special written on the slide along with some Thai script. They were a true work of art.

"I finally got my boys back. I had been carrying a set I had for emergencies until I had a new one made to replace one that I lost before you joined up. I would have had them sooner, but old man Prichyat was swamped with custom orders. How do you propose to explain this to Dutch though."

Ethan laughed, "Disgruntled former employer."

* * *

"Disgruntled former employer. That is really what you are going with," the Lagoon's captain asked deadpanned.

"It's the truth. His brother hired me as head of security, and someone got by me. I got out of there and hoped to disappear, I failed. I don't plan to die without a fight or run away, so I called in a favor and am going to do a little bit of ass kicking," Ethan replied.

He had not told a straight out lie to anyone since the intervention a while back. While he wasn't the most popular on the team, he wasn't hated anymore. Revy still wanted to kill him at times, but that was her view on most of the world.

"And the favor was owed by Balalaika. This isn't going to ruin our relationship with Hotel Moscow is it?"

"Unlikely, it may actually strengthen it. She has been looking for battles since she and her men were drummed out of the Soviet Military. She wants to fight, and I gave her the chance to."

Dutch sat back and did something he did more and more due to his newest employee, he considered his words. Balalaika had felt that the honor of the Desan'tniki had been infringed when they were discharged and she was looking for the perfect fight to restore it. And if Ethan saved her she would definately owe him a favor, though most men in the same situation would have screwed her brains out, he might have to watch the man.

"If you die I am giving your share completely to Heidi," the black man said after a while, " And Revy is going to take your guns."

"That is fair. Don't have enough to justify writing a will, and I don't even think that there is a lawyer in this hellhole of a city. Guess there is a chance I don't get to die of cancer or the like," Ethan mused dowerly.

Before he could leave the room Dutch caught his attention, "Where did you find a vest like that? And why are you carrying six handguns like that?"

"I had it custom made while I was in Romania. I wasn't doing any fighting and I had more money than I needed. It seems like I always do, and whiskey and women don't make a big enough dent in that. As for the number of guns it is to be prepared. I carry two Colt Delta Elite Variant II 10mm autos, two Beretta M9 9mm Parabellums, and two IMI Desert Eagle Mark VII .357 Magnums. They allow me greater flexibility. I chamber FMJ ammo in the Colts. They work well against large dudes wearing little to no armor. I chamber a special teflon coated round in the 9mms. They penetrate middleweight armor easily and have a high capacity magazine. I use hollow points in the .357s. Against a close in unarmored opponent they are devastating. I carry two of each to give me an advantage in firepower and to be able to engage two targets at once. I have spent the last twelve years perfecting using twin pistols. I have never done it because it looked cool though."

"You sound like you've had explain that before."

Ethan nodded as he exited the room.

* * *

**A/N: Not a very long or action filled chapter. The next one is going to have a very sizable gunfight though. It may take me a while to get everything perfect without Ethan falling over that very fine line of actually fitting in, or becoming an overpowered gary stu. Now, and this is probably a long shot, if Rei Hiroe is reading this, please give me an idea of how well I am doing and my life will be somewhat more complete. Actually maybe not. Probably not, more important things override that. DAMN YOU REAL LIFE, YOU FOIL ME AT EVERY TURN.**


End file.
